


Nevermore and Again

by orphan_account



Series: Nevermore [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>500 years ago Thror cursed the line of Durin. Now his descendant and his mismatched company will embark on a quest to reclaim a kingdom and end the curse.</p><p>And hopefully his phone will have service this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know. What am I doing working on this monster of a story when Dragon Lord is still sitting on my computer, collecting dust? Well, I have a very good excuse.... which I will tell you just as soon as I think of it....
> 
> In any case, please enjoy and let me know if anything seems too implausible.
> 
> I'm gonna try for bi-weekly updates with this one. We'll see just how well I can stick to it.

Prologue

500 years ago, the dwarf king, Thror, ruled a mighty empire called Erebor. The Kingdom was rich and prosperous. Behind her stone walls, her people made their living by mining the precious jewels and metals deep beneath ground. These they took and fashioned objects of the greatest beauty. The skill of the dwarven smiths was unmatched throughout the land. The kingdom grew rich and powerful, the envy of all others. 

Even the great Elven King, Thranduil, could not not deny Erebor's splendor and happily gave his alliance to the dwarf-king.

Thror was a good and just king who ruled his people with fairness. He was a pinnacle of light to all he met.

But as with all good things, the times of peace and plenty were not to last. The end began when King Thror received a gift from a distant kingdom. It was a tiny package; containing just one item. A ring.

The note that accompanied the parcel claimed that it was a gift for the greatest of the dwarf Lords. Thror accepted the gift with pride, please at the seemingly harmless tribute.

The change that came over Erebor's beloved king happened almost overnight. Gone, suddenly was the kind and generous king who had before always put his people's need above his own desires. In his place there now stood a vicious and cruel dwarf, cold and intolerant of any who stood in the way of gaining his gold.

This new king commanded his miners to dig deeper into their mines. Any gold or jewels that were found went automatically into the king's own treasury and became his property. He put into place harsh taxes and those who could not or were unwilling to pay, were jailed and many were never heard from again.

It was like a sickness that slowly bled into the once great kingdom and still Thror grew more ruthless and greedy with each precious stone unearthed.

And then, they found it. The one stone to surpass all others.

The Arkenstone.

It was no ordinary stone. It shone white like starlight, gleaming in the night. It was large but light to the touch and harder than any diamond. It was clear that this stone was a gift from the Valar and from Eru himself to the dwarves of Erebor.

Thror took the stone upon its discovery and declared it a sign. A sign that his line- The Line of Durin- would rule the land for eternity.

No one questioned him. No one dared. They could do nothing to change his mind in any case.

Thror's madness spread to the surrounding land. He forced his neighboring kings- Thranduil of the elves and Girion of the kingdom of Dale to pay forth vast amounts of tribute to him and acknowledge him as the greatest and the most supreme.  
Thranduil's attempts to persuade Thror that no good would come of his greediness fell on deaf ears. Thror refused to see how dearly he and his kingdom would pay for it. He would not even listen to his own kin, let alone one the king deemed an outsider.

As many would expect, the Elven King's word rang true.

It took six years for the end to come. But come it did. In the form of a great firedrake. A dragon by the name of Smaug.

The enormous dragon struck at the City of Dale first. Destroying it completely, this city posed no threat to Smaug. He moved swiftly on the mountain city next, claiming it and all of its riches as his own. Neither woman nor man, nor child could escape the fury of the dragon.

Not even the king himself would be spared, trapped beneath his piles of jewels and gold. He raved of how he would still be king even in his death.

The dragon did not simply destroy, no he decimated all that lay within his wake.

Except for two. 

King Thror had but one child. A son by the name of Thrain. With their city falling to pieces around them, Thrain pushed to get his wife and their own newly born son to safety. He told them to run West. To the kingdom of the elves. Seek shelter from them for surly they would protect her and their son.

But alas, no help would come the elves in the forest of Greenwood that day and Dis was forced to continue on searching for sanctuary and a place to raise her child. 

With her home long since gone and her tiny son near to starving, she took odd jobs at inns in the towns of Men for they at least took pity on the dwarrowdam.

Eventually she made it across the land to the Blue Mountains. There she found a nomadic tribe of dwarves who, upon seeing the devastated dwarves, immediately took her in.

And there she stayed and raised her exiled prince till the end of her days. She told him stories of the charmed life she had led in Erebor with his father, of the majesty of the city itself. Her grief at its loss and that of her husband to the dragon haunted her and slowly consumed her entire being. 

When she died in the bluffs of the Blue Mountains, many said it was due to a broken heart. Her son, now fully grown, vowed that for as long as the Line of Durin lived, they would never stop trying for Erebor.

They would win her back from the dragon. They would return home

For 400 years they tried, each one failing, until finally, with defeat in their hearts, the dwarves of the Line of Durin slowly began to fade from the light, without a place to call their own. Without any hope of home.

And then, Thorin II was born...

Prologue/End.


	2. A Bookshop on Main St.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo Baggins owns a bookshop and is the epitome of respectabilty... mostly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? I'm back? With a new chapter? I'm not dead?! The answer to these questions and many more is yes!!!
> 
> Finally all moved in my new house (lie) and ready for the new semester of classes to begin (also a lie)
> 
> Going to try to write on a schedule for once (Lie Lie Lie) so we'll see how that goes! 
> 
> One final note: Man: denotes race as in the race of Man; while man denotes any male being

A Bookshop on Main St.

In a small bookshop on Main st in a small city called Hobbiton, there lived a hobbit. He was a small man, which wasn't out of the ordinary in the Shire. From the buildings and parks, all the way down to the people who lived in them. In fact, not one of the Shire's citizens stood above five feet, and most, were well below that.

In the 300 years that the Hobbits had lived in their quaint little country, much had changed.

The halfling (or Little People as they preferred to be called) had gone from a purely agricultural and isolated folk, to a highly innovative and intellectual one- who still held the world's largest production of... well... produce.

Where before they had lived in simple and soft hobbit holes and ran quaint little shops, they now lived in stone and wood houses and apartments and owned huge corporations. Many of the elders, though questioned this new style of living.

What had happened to a hobbit picking out a nice hill and building his sweetheart a bungalow to raise their family in? And grandparents who told fantastical stories to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren? Where were they? Now all the old stories were written in textbooks and instead of children clamoring around the knees of a wizened old man or woman, they sat at desks and were forced to learn about... _the world_.

They all questioned too, the need to trade with the countries surrounding them.

Before, when the Shire had been but a small colony, there had been the city of Bree, a city of Man that lay just east of the Shire's borders. Ever had the Men who lived there been friend's to the Hobbits and they continued to be so to this day, both in trade and as a steady ally in times of trouble. They were the Hobbits' main trade partner. In recent years, however, their trade network had grown to include the Dwarven nation to the west of their borders and even with the distant countries of Gondor and Rohan.

No longer could the Hobbits lead such simple and peaceful lives, ignorant of the rest of the world, the younger generations all said. It wasn't possible any longer. The world was growing and changing around them and they were fast being left in the dust.

It hadn't been easy, playing catch up with the world. But they had managed it.

The population spike that had hit in the middle of the third age had ensured that the Hobbits needed to rearrange their line of thinking. There just simply wasn't enough land for them to continue farming the way they had for centuries. To top it off, invasions came from the south constantly in an attempt to steal their fertile lands. For years they came, goblins and other unsavory folk.

The poor Hobbits, being a peaceful people, knew that their trouble-free days were over. And it was Bull Roarer Took who raised up the Hobbit Moot; the long forgotten Hobbit army, and beat the vermin back- many of them wielding frying pans and pitchforks.

The battles were so successful that it brought the world's attention upon the Shire. Curious races of all sorts began to venture Westward to see this strange and unfamiliar race.

Kings and rulers from Kingdoms around the world appealed to them with alliances and attempts at friendship.

Bullroarer, the hobbit Thain, would hear non of it. For all that they were peaceful, they would not be forced to choose a side. While they recognized the need for arms, they would remain wholly neutral. Unless of course some fool race chose to attack them first...

Things continued in this fashion for centuries. There were race, such as the Dwarrows of the Blue Mountains, who respected the Hobbits for their decision-being that they, themselves were fairly isolated and secretive. They did what they could to assist their friends. A close bond formed between the two, a slow partnership that benefited each race.

The Hobbits gained the security and protection of the dwarves and in turn, the dwarves gained new resources- for the Hobbits were willing to share anything and everything with those they considered to be their friends.

Despite this though, others began to press for trade. The elves to the North were developing new technologies and though they were protective of it, they were willing to share it... for a price.

Naturally, most other races were hungry for the secrets of the elves and gladly gave in.

Slowly, the secrets and technologies began to spread throughout Middle Earth and in quick succession, all the lands began to grow more technologically adept, until finally, in the sixth age, in 1969, the elves succeeded where no other race had before. They sent one of their own into space.

The world was in awe. The dwarves demanded to know what sort of magic they had used to achieve such a feat. The elves, though, simply said that it was science that had allowed their success.

That was neither here nor there though. The Hobbits found it all fascinating of course, but the world was not their concern. Let the elves set their eyes on the stars they loved so much, and the Men create technologies to communicate with each other, they had other things to concern themselves with.

Phones became mobile, computers, portable. Books too became more accessible, throughout the lands. People too were able to travel faster via car and bus and even by air on areoplanes. Travel between countries and nations became popular.

The rise of corporations came next. Large scaled businesses that sought to take control of the world's resources and control the populace- and in a way, it worked.

Entrepreneurs rose up trying to become the next big star and one such person was the owner and proprietor of a quaint little shop called Bag End Books.

The shop's first owner was a Mr. Bungo Baggins esq. He was a wealthy chap. Respectable as well. In fact, Bungo was perhaps the richest and most respectable hobbit in all of Hobbiton. He was a handsome man, standing at 4ft 5 in with a mop of curly blonde hair and dark eyes. His build was like most hobbits; thin shoulders that led to a slightly larger than healthy stomach, oh it wasn't enormous or anything, but it was clear that Mr. Baggins enjoyed a good meal....or seven. His face, like most hobbit men, was smooth and he could more often than not, be seen sporting a crooked grin.

He was a scholarly fellow who enjoyed many a great work of literature. He'd read many of them before he'd reached his majority and when he went on to university, he received his masters and Ph. D. in Elvish literature and cartography.

Fresh out of university, he set out to make a respectable life for himself when fate decided to intervene.

He was walking down the street early one morning with his coffee from the local shop clutched in his hand. His dark brown satchel was slung over one shoulder as he walked briskly down the sidewalk. He wasn't in too big a rush but if he didn't hurry, he would be late for his first day of work at the Hobbiton Community Library and it was incredibly poor manners to be late.

He nodded to several people as he walked along. He'd just finished giving a smile to Old Lady Boffins who ran the bakery when suddenly he found himself with a face full of hot coffee and a sore bum.

“Oh Eru!” said a female voice. After blowing his sopping hair from his face, he looked up into the eyes of an angel. The stunning creature before him made him completely forget and his stinging face and ruined shirt. She had full plump lips and beautiful hazel eyes. Her hair was the color of spun gold shimmering in the sunlight.

“Are you alright?” she said, holding a hand out to help him up. Even her voice sounded like music! “Oh and look, I've gone and ruined your jacket too!”

Pulling himself off the sidewalk, Mr. Baggins said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Bungo.” he blurted.

The woman blinked. “Um...?” Bungo blushed.

“M-my name, Miss,” he stammered. “is Bungo Baggins,” The woman gave him a bewildered look.

“That's fantastic,” she said. “You know you've got coffee all down your front?”

Bungo was positive that his face was as red as a ripe tomato by now. He had no idea what exactly his emotions were doing. He'd never before had trouble speaking to a woman, so why now?

“Yes, well, it appears that I'm in need of another cup,” he said, straightening up. “Care to join me?”

Her answering grin was enough to nearly make his heart burst with warmth.

They spoke for hours when he finally learned that her name was Belladonna Took. She was the eldest daughter of the Thain of the entire shire. She had just returned from university as well with a masters in anthropology. Her passion was travelling and she had a grand time telling him of the places she had seen and about her internship abroad in Gondolin and Norgrod.

They spoke of anything and everything. Bungo found her fascinating and wild. Bella found him warm and nonjudgmental. Bungo never did make it to that first day...

Their relationship was the talk of the Shire. The wild child daughter of the Thain dating the eldest son of the prestigious Baggins family. Their romance was a whirwind of fire and passion and filled with talk of marriage and families and dreams of adventures.

And when finally, after 18 months, Mr. Bungo Baggins asked a question, and Miss Belladonna Took became Mrs. Belladonna Baggins. As a present for his new bride, Bungo bought the biggest vacant building in the middle of Hobbiton and built for her a place where adventures never died and could be shared with anyone with a curious enough heart.

He called it Bag End.

It was long after, that an extension needed to be built onto the shop. A place where the two love birds could happily raise a family. Their son, Bilbo, was born in 1989, and he was a beautiful baby boy with coppery blonde curls and shining hazel eyes.

He was the spitting image of his father, right down to his crooked little grin. But his spirit was all his mother.

It is this child dear reader, who will be the start of our story. Oh not now, of course. He's still got quite a bit of growing to do, but if you will allow me, let us fast forward to the year 2014 and we shall begin our tale properly and visit a bookshop on main st...

~ ~ ~

The day had been quite a slow one. The tourist season hadn't yet begun and the school year was coming to the point where students were frantically preparing for final exams and presentations. In Bilbo's humble opinion, April was always the worst month for business.

Bilbo had had a few customers naturally; regulars who stopped to chat or check up on him. He was grateful to those who could still manage to look him in the eye and not pity him. And he really was much better now.

The accident that had claimed the lives of both of his parents six years ago still burned brightly in his mind and gave him the occasional nightmare but he would not let that keep him from living a respectable life. He was a Baggins of BagEnd dammit and he would endure.

That day it was just him in the shop. It was usually just him nowadays. Occasionally he was able to con or bribe his cousin Drogo into covering a shift or two while he ran an errand. With the lad heading off to to university in the coming fall, the hobbit would have to put in for some more help. And what a bucket of laughs _that_ would be, he was sure.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy living in Hobbiton. He'd been born and raised in the capital city. It was his home. But life here never seemed to change. The people changed their appearances, the style and ideas, the customs were slow to change and adapt. At night, Bilbo would sit in his father's favorite armchair with a book in his lap and the television humming softly in the background and he would dream.

He would dream of life outside his quiet little shop and flat. He would dream of going on an adventures just like the ones he'd read and heard about all his life.

He'd graduated university with a degree in Literature, like his father but in this day and age, there was little he could with such a degree.  
He wanted to see the far off places he'd only read about in his books or seen on his father's maps.

But there would be no adventures for Bilbo Baggins. He was a Baggins of BagEnd. The Master of BagEnd as the whole of Hobbiton said. And no matter how much he wished it, in BagEnd, Bilbo was going to stay.

~ ~ ~

That day had been particularly slower than most. It was lunch time and Bilbo knew that once the clock it noon, there would be no one in for hours. The people of the Shire took their meal times very seriously. It was wonder that they'd been as successful as they had.

Our hobbit hero was just getting ready to shut off his 'open' sign and place his 'out to lunch' sign in the window when the bell over the door chimed. He sighed in slight irritation and came out of the office into the lobby.

The shop wasn't a large one. It had wide hickory stained bookcases lining the cream colored walls. Tables staked high with books and displays dotted the lobby floor. Off in one of the corners, was a small study nook with big cushy chairs and tables. From time to time, a few of the high school students would stop by after class to look at books they needed or study for exams, it was a tradition left over from Bilbo's own school days when Bilbo and his friends would ransack the store for books and supplies.

Now, the nook had been updated with several outlets and plugs for laptop cords and phone chargers.

Above the shop was a renovated two bedroom, one bathroom flat. Behind its sheltered walls, was where Bilbo had spent most of his childhood.

The man who had entered the store was tall, much taller than any hobbit in the Shire. Was he from Bree perhaps? The Men from the neighboring country sometimes came through on business.

Though Man or not, Bilbo could not help but feel that something was off about him. He wore all gray, from the smart button down blazer, to his shiny dress shoes. He even wore a gray fedora on his head. His hair and beard were shockingly white and contrasted brilliantly with his twinkling blue eyes.

“Um, Good Morning,” the hobbit greeted. It was still technically morning wasn't it? He glanced at the clock above the register. It read 11:37. Yes, still morning then.

“What do you mean by 'good morning'?” the Man asked. Bilbo blinked. What?

“Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good on this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on.”

Bilbo stared at the Man- he was simply going to assume that he was a Man, unless of course he said otherwise. He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to formulate a response before finally settling on,

“A-all of them at once I suppose... Can I help you find anything?”

Bilbo couldn't stop himself from flinching when the man narrowed his eyes at him. The hobbit was infinitely grateful for the counter that separated the two of them.

“That remains to be seen,” he said giving the hobbit a once over. Bilbo suddenly felt as if every one of his secretes was bared before the man. “I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure...”

Bilbo's lips pursed. Clearly this man had been talking to some of the locals. The phrase brought back painful memories of when he was a lad. It was how his mother would always start off her stories.

“Well,” he began stiffly. “We've got plenty of those in this shop. Even some fantasy if that strikes your fancy.” He nodded and turn to turn away.

“If there's anything else that I could possibly do for you or you're ready to check out, just ring the bell,” with that said, he started back to his office. Maybe he could order take away for lunch.

“To think that the son of Belladonna Took would think me nothing more than a common patron.”

Bilbo stopped in his tracks. Surprised, he turned and stared at the man once again.

“I beg your pardon?” he gulped, his hand still on the entry way to his office.

“You've certainly changed Bilbo Baggins,” said the man with a frown.

Bilbo swallowed again. Could he have heard his name around town. He was a well enough known man around being the grandson of the Thain and all. But why then, had he said it with so much familiarity? By Eru, he'd even known his mother's maiden name!

“Do... do I know you?” he asked. The man's blue eyes were twinkling in amusement.

“My dear Bilbo,” he said with a wide toothy grin. “You certainly know of me, even you don't recall my name.”

At the hobbit's blank look, the white haired man chuckled. “I'm Gandalf,” he said. “and Gandalf means _me_.”

A look of recognition dawned on the hobbit. A memory of exploding colors and pictures painted in the night sky.

“Gandalf...” Bilbo whispered reverently. He looked at he other. “The wandering wizard who used to make the fireworks that the Thain had on Midsummer's eve?”

The wizard broke into an amused smile. “Well, at least my fireworks have made an impression, even if my face did not.”

Bilbo couldn't help the excitement that built within him. Gandalf had been a good friend to both his mother and grandfather, always telling the best stories when Bilbo was a child.

“It's wonderful to see you again!” he said, abandoning the sanctuary of the office and finally coming around the counter. “But it's been years! What on earth has brought you back?”  
Gandalf's toothy grin had returned full force. “I've come for you Dear Boy.” he said and tipped his hat. “And now that I've gotten my answer, I shall go inform the others. Good day Bilbo.”

Bilbo stared at the wizard, baffled for what seemed like the eighth time that day as Gandalf turned tail and rushed out of the shop.

The hobbit followed him out and shouted after him. “Others, Gandalf? What others?”

But the wizard was nowhere to be seen out in the street. It was like he'd simply gone and vanished. Had Bilbo imagined him?”

“Well, then,” he said going back into the shop. “How do you like that?” Shaking his head in disbelief he then proceeded to order take away.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day passed by with very little incident. A few teens stopped in to browse after classes had let out, and old Mrs. Proudfoot dropped by with a cheese and chicken casserole, claiming that Bilbo was starting to look a little peaky and that he should really be eating more.

By the time that Bilbo had thanked her and assured her that he was in fine health, if a little tired- it wasn't exactly easy trying to run a business on your own and yes of course he would consider hiring some help for the summer- it was nearing six o'clock. Bilbo knew that most hobbits ate dinner at six or six thirty with supper at seven or eight.

Bilbo locked the front door and made sure to put the contents of the cash register securely into the safe under the counter and retreated up the back stairs to his cozy little flat.

He clicked one of his mother's lamps on by the front door and sighed. He could remember a time when the place had been full of laughter and love. Now, it was nearly silent with only Bilbo to give it life. He supposed that he could move or rent it out to some other family but it had been his father's gift to his mother and he was determined that it should remain with him.

That still didn't soften the lonely ache Bilbo felt, walking through the empty halls to the kitchen. But then again, there wasn't much that did soothe the loneliness.

~ ~ ~

The little flat was just starting to smell like roasted herbs and savory spices when his phone sounded.

Mrs. Proudfoot's casserole was safely tucked away in the refrigerator alongside four or five other dishes from other well wishers.

Bilbo did appreciate them. He really did. He just could not bring himself to eat any of it. Doing so always caused him to remember the reason that the ladies thought it was necessary. And Bilbo was in no way ready to to face it yet. Even six years later.

He had just pulled his roasted vegetables and seared garlic flounder out of the oven when the merry tune of his text alert sounded.   
Frowning, he set the dish down gently on the stove and wiped his hands on his trousers. He picked up his phone from the where it sat on the counter. He unlocked it to look at who had sent it.

It was from an unknown number. Curious, he tapped the screen to reveal the message.

It was four words. Words that caused Bilbo to tilt his head to the side and narrow his eyes and he tried to puzzle out their meaning.

_Put the Kettle On- G_

He was just about to call the number when from downstairs, he heard the tinkling of his doorbell.

Chapter one/End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seemed fast. I had a lot of backstory to write before the actual story starts and I didn't want it to get too dry or boring.
> 
> Chapters for this story won't be as long or detailed since they'll be coming on a biweekly basis. But this story is slightly more structured than my others so whatever. 
> 
> Anyway see you in two weeks!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thror and Thorin are not directly related in this fanfiction. Every race still exists in this AU, except you know with cell phones. It basically resembles our own world in a way if that helps anyone to visualize it.


End file.
